Sentimental Sunday: Father's Day -- Dear Dad, You Did the Best You Could!!

Dear Dad,

Usually when someone says "you did the best that you could" it is intended as a platitude to comfort someone who fell short.  I am going to say it and mean it to its fullest intention -- YOU DID THE BEST THAT YOU COULD!  And nothing more could be asked of any of us.

You have been a great Dad. When I was young, you went out of your way to spend time with me.  You took me hunting when my boots were so big on my feet they got pulled off by the sucking mud.  You took me fishing when learning water wears down stone.  You took me camping when I was too excited to sleep that "relaxing with my eyes closed" was almost as good as sleep.  You took me around the USA.  You took me to Canada.  You took me deep into Mexico. You showed me a world outside my immediate surroundings.  You would make sure I was experientially enlightened.

The divorce judge told you that you could have my brother and me every other weekend.  So you made sure to take us every other weekend!  If that was all you were going to get, then that is what you were going to use to its fullest!  You would take us to the movies or the ballgame, but sometimes you would just take us to your apartment and watch tv, because you were going to spend with us all the time the law allotted you to spend with us, recognizing the importance of a present father, regardless the activity we spent together.  I grew up in a generation of broken homes.  Do you know what an exception you were?!?  Most of my peers were "abandoned" by their broken-off parent!  You were different, you evidently cared!  And that was not lost on me.

I am not an only child.  I willingly share you with my brother.  You were a public school teacher for what, thirty-five years?  I necessarily share you with tens of thousands of students to whom you dedicated your best.

But dearest Dad, there are things that are just mine.  Until I was three, you sang me to sleep with the "Wabash Cannonball."

With apologies to my younger brother whom I love, there were some advantages to being the first born.  On Sunday mornings before church, we read the newspaper together.

And then there are the stupid dogs.  It was you who introduced them to me.  It was you who taught me to love them.  It was you who set me on the road to raising and training and competing with them.

I love you Dad.  Life threw its curve balls at you, and you not only never stepped out of the batter box, you choked up on the bat!  Be proud.  Recognize you did the best that you humanly could.  And that is the most that can be asked of any one of us.

Happy Father's Day.

Copyright © 2010 by Kevin W. Walker

Sentimental Sunday: Memorial Day, Part 2 -- Ralph Keith Walker (1918-1969)

Now for something new.  My fondest memories of growing up are the days I spent with my Dad and my uncle Ralph, usually hunting.  We hunted ducks, geese, doves, quail, and pheasants.  It was my Dad and my uncle Ralph that introduced me to working Labrador Retrievers, and are primarily responsible for how integral they have become in my life.  You see, I was too young to take much interest in Dad and Ralph's conversations on our hunting trips, so I spent all my time bonding with the dogs.

Ralph voluntarily enlisted in the U.S. Navy in 1938.  He was stationed aboard the battleship USS West Virginia in communications as a radio operator.  In early 1941, Ralph was transferred to the heavy cruiser USS Minneapolis.  On December 7, 1941 when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, the USS Minneapolis was 20 miles north participating in gunnery practice.  But the USS West Virginia was sunk, killing over a hundred of her crew.

Ralph saw lots of action in World War II, earning five medals and accommodations with service stars (three in Asian Pacific, one in Atlantic off coast of north Africa) that represent actual engagement with the enemy.  He was at Wake Island, and the Battle of Leyte Gulf;  He helped liberate the Philippines and allied forces invade north Africa.  In addition to the USS West Virginia, and the USS Minneapolis, he also served aboard the USS Walker, the USS Titania, and the USS Terry.  He separated out in October 1945, two months after the surrender of Japan and the end of the war, serving a total of seven and a half years; enlisting before it began, exiting after it was over.

Ralph died in 1969 at age 50 from a kind of cancer that is now curable in over 90% of the patients who contract it, but for which they didn't have a cure back then.  He left behind my aunt "Betty" (Florence Esther Spurrier, 1920-2009) and a daughter.

Copyright © 2010 by Kevin W. Walker

In My Avatar, That is Indeed Me!

In honor of Mother's Day, somewhat.  Pictured is my mother introducing baby me to our Labrador Retriever "Pat" some fifty years ago.

My Dad was a duck hunter, and responsible duck hunters hunt with retrievers.  "Pat" was his retriever.

Dogs, and Labradors in particular, have always been and remain an integral part of my life to this day.  My wife and I raise and train Labradors for competition in Obedience, Agility, and Field.  If my mother and father could only have known what they started, some fifty years ago.

© 2010, Copyright Kevin W. Walker